Mercy
by NallyChan
Summary: Dean doesn't know what he's started, when he steps into an average bar and meets a girl who changes his life. AU around season 5. My first Fic!
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: I do not own any recognizable characters from the Supernatural TV show or own the Lyrics to the Florence and the Machine songs.

Mercy

Dean walked into the bar and gave it a once over. It was one of those well lit and had a homey atmosphere, where a person could bring his family and not worry about a bar brawl starting any second. Still Dean looked for any funny goings on and when nothing caught his immediate attention, he made his way over to a stool at the bar and took a seat. The world weighed heavy on his shoulders, not like it didn't every night, but tonight it felt like it could crush him. He and Sammy had been on the road for days following a lead, and Castiel hadn't been in touch for awhile, but still he felt out of sorts.

Dean let his gaze wonder over the bar room again, this time focusing on a girl staring off into the distance sitting in one of the booths. For some reason, her presence there seemed odd, but he couldn't put his finger on why.

"Hey, sugar, watcha wana drink?" Dean jerked back and saw a red-headed bar maid standing in front of him. She was a busty woman who had a knowing look in her eye, one of those types that seemed to be in every drinking establishment he had frequented. Sometimes he wondered if they mail-ordered them for bars all over America.

"Ah, give me a whiskey, thanks".

"Will do suga, would ya like anythin else?" She said in a suggestive way that Dean picked up on straight away. Of course he would, he'd taken up on such offers all the time. Some days he thought the sex was the only thing that kept him grounded. That and his family, his only family: Sammy.

"Nah, I'm okay" Dean unconsciously leaned to the side and tried to get another look at the girl.

"Suit yaself but just ta let ya know Grace is off limit", the red-head said as she looked in the direction he was before she turned away and went to get his drink.

Dean was half surprised at the warning, only half since he was Dean Winchester and drinking, eating, hunting and whoring were the four fundamental aspects of his life. But for once he wasn't checking out the fairer half for purely carnal reasons. No, his instincts told him there was something off about the girl. Something more to her than just being a brunette, somewhere in her late teens or early twenties, sitting in a bar in one of the homeliest outfits he had on anyone from a bar hopping crowd. In her full sleeved shirt, knee length baggy skirt and Mary Jane's she would have made a perfect librarian. To think that she needed people warning them away from her was odd in Dean's book of normal, which didn't account for much.

Instinct told him that this girl, Grace, wasn't what she seemed to be. This instinct had led to Dean discovering too many demons and self-important angels in his time. Some days he couldn't get away from the job. Was no place sacred?

Dean slowly made his way towards the girls' booth.

"Hi" He said as he made himself comfortable opposite her.

"Hi!" She said as she swung to face him. Her expression was of slight confusion as she asked, "Who are you? I don't think I've met you before?" She stared straight into his eye without self-consciousness, which he found slightly unnerving for some unknown reason.

"Grace is it? I was just wondering what you were doing in a place like this? A bar isn't the safest place, especially so late at night."

"My dad owns this place but thanks for the warning." She said with a slightly amused expression on her open face.

"Sorry what was your name? It's only right to know yours, as you obviously know mine." Dean hesitated, the reason she was here was clearer, but he still got a weird vibe from her.

"It's Dean" He stuck out his hand for her to shake but she made no move towards him.

"It's nice to meet you Dean, I'm sorry but I have to go, please stick around and have a drink". With that she got up and walked towards the side door and made her exit. Dean was taken by surprise by her sudden departure; his hand was still stuck out in front of him, hanging in the air like a dead fish. He quickly reeled it back in and ran it though his hair. The red-head sidled up to him and placed his glass of whiskey on the table, he could only guess she had seen his epic fail and she confirmed it by what she said next.

"So ya approached Grace after-all, You've got balls I'll give ya that. The boss is protective of his Grace and ya best be weary of his shotgun." She said as made to move away. "I can tell ya not from around here, guess ya might want to see her perform but I say, make yaself scarce once she's' done jus in case her Daddy caught ya talking to her". She said as she gestured towards the bar, where a big guy who had no obvious resemblance to the girl, was shooting him daggers.

Before Dean could question the redhead further, the spotlight on the small stage, near where Grace had left, lit up to show her looking to the floor, wearing a silvery white dress that made her look otherworldly, like what people thought mythical beings, faeries and angels maybe, looked like and not the ones he met on a day to day basis.

Just then she looked up. Her gaze found a middle distance as she began to sing the first notes of a haunting song.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Seems that I have been held, in some dreaming state  
>A tourist in the waking world, never quite awake<br>No kiss, no gentle word could wake me from this slumber  
>Until I realise that it was you who held me under<p>

Felt it in my fist, in my feet, in the hollows of my eyelids  
>Shaking through my skull, through my spine and down through my ribs<p>

No more dreaming of the dead as if death itself was undone  
>No more calling like a crow for a boy, for a body in the garden<br>No more dreaming like a girl so in love, so in love  
>No more dreaming like a girl so in love, so in love<br>No more dreaming like a girl so in lovewith the wrong world

And I could hear the thunder and see the lightning crack  
>All around the world was waking, I never could go back<br>Cos all the walls of dreaming, they were torn right open  
>And finally it seemed that the spell was broken<p>

And all my bones began to shake, my eyes flew open  
>And all my bones began to shake, my eyes flew open<p>

No more dreaming of the dead as if death itself was undone  
>No more calling like a crow for a boy, for a body in the garden<br>No more dreaming like a girl so in love, so in love  
>No more dreaming like a girl so in love, so in love<br>No more dreaming like a girl so in love with the wrong world

Snow White's stitching up the circuit boards  
>Someone's slipping through the hidden door<br>Snow White's stitching up the circuit board

No more dreaming of the dead as if death itself was undone  
>No more calling like a crow for a boy, for a body in the garden<br>No more dreaming like a girl so in love, so in love  
>No more dreaming like a girl so in love, so in love<br>No more dreaming like a girl so in love with the wrong world

Snow White's stitching up the circuit boards  
>Someone's slipping through the hidden door<br>Snow White's stitching up the circuit boards  
>Someone's slipping through the hidden door<p> 

As she finished to a round of quiet applause, Dean snapped out of his trance. He looked back towards Grace again and it seemed like the inner glow she had during her number was no longer there. Was she a demon? A witch? One of those creatures in Sammy's books that they hadn't come across yet, or one that they had? All of a sudden he wished he hadn't left his brother back in motel room. Sammy was the one good at identifying creatures, only second to Bobby.

_Well__I__guess__there__'__s__only__one__thing__to__do.__Follow__her._Dean ignored the sense of tranquillity that had settled on him, got up and followed Grace as she left the stage on the right and walked towards the bar.

He neared her as she stumbled into a chair. She would have fallen if not for Dean grabbing her arm in time.

"You okay?"

"Yeah I'm fine…Someone must have moved the chair". She said as she looked up at him. 'Thanks for the save, Dean was it?"

"Well it's not surprising that chairs are moved around in a bar honey, that's why I said you should keep your walking stick with you" said the gravelly voice coming from behind Dean.

Dean turned to face Grace' Dad, who was glaring at him and looking pointedly at the hand he still had on Mercy's arm.

Dean snatched the offending appendage back and gave his trademark grin, which worked wonders with females but wasn't so helpful when it came to father's.

"Wait - walking stick?" Dean bluntly asked in Grace's direction.

"I guess the cat's out of the bag, it normally takes people a few visits to realise but then you can't take all the credit, since it wasn't all your guess work". She said with a gentle smile in Dean's direction, a smile that felt like a punch to his gut.

Suddenly her unblinking gaze made more sense.

She was blind.

Dean suddenly felt the piercing gaze of 'Dad' and realised it was time to make an escape, if the murderous waves coming from that direction were anything to go by.

Dean threw a hasty smile in Grace's direction that she couldn't see, dodged around 'Dad' and made a hasty exit. It seemed like his whiskey would be left untouched but with Grace's mystery to solve, it looked like it was time for him and Sammy to get busy. Dean didn't realise as he made his way towards the motel, that he felt lighter that he had when he had entered the bar. Lighter and less burdened than he had felt in years.

OoOoOoOoOoO

Grace entered the small apartment above the bar with a sigh of relief. It had taken a lot of convincing for her Dad not to walk her the short distance to the flat. It was odd to think that he had only had that title for five years. Even more surprising that such a generous man would adopt someone like her. A girl with no sight, no memory of life before the orphanage had taken her in. Before Stan Latimer had taken her in and made her his daughter, shortcoming and all. Now life wasn't exactly one of quiet living, not when you lived above a bar, but the only home she had, that she remembered, was the small apartment that she knew like the back of her hand, if not by sight.

Grace turned the light switch on by the left side of the door, so Stan would know she had made it safely home, counting steps as she went she made her way slowly down the hallway. After ten steps she turned left and opened the door to her room. It had very little furniture and Grace walked straight to her bed, changed into her bottoms and a t-shirt that her dad had laid out for her and laid down. As she waited for sleep to overcome her, Dean came to mind, specifically his voice. She had been instantly aware of him from the beginning, as she was anyone who came into the bar.

Grace normally tried to sense if any new bar patrons were going to be trouble or not and then push them from her mind. However, when it came to Dean something held her attention, as if he had some unique quality that was indecipherable to her.

She had learnt very little from listening in into his conversation with Linda, only that he hadn't taken her up on her offer as others would have and that he must have been paying attention to her, Grace. She had almost felt his gaze and had been slightly thrilled that he had approached her, an odd reaction since she was normally weary of newcomers. Her lack of sight adding to her vulnerability.

It had also felt like there was something special in the air when she had sang tonight too. Singing grounded her like nothing else could, a hard thing to feel with no sight and long memory past five years to speak of. There were times when she almost felt like she could see the world while singing and all was right within it in that moment. With Dean it seemed like she had sought him out in that moment, odd when she had only just met him.

Well that's probably the last I'll hear of him, they all head south when they find out I'm blind and Dad takes care of the stragglers, she thought. The urge of wanting to get to know him had been strong but her shyness had won out in the end and she had made her escape, such an unsupervised opportunity would be hard to come by again. Oh Well, it can't be helped_._With that last thought Grace fell into a deep and troubled sleep.

AN – The song used in this chapter is Blinding-FlorenceandtheMachine.A great song and definitely worth a listen. Please review, it makes me want to write! Constructive criticism is welcome!


	2. Chapter 2

Disclaimer: I do not own any recognizable characters from the Supernatural TV show, if I did I would be making way more money.

Chapter 2

Dean burst into their current motel room, his gaze seeking out Sammy. They landed on him, sitting at a Formica table facing the door; he sat before his beloved laptop, a gun placed carefully next to it. Sam had just finished taking a gulp of his beer when Dean had showed up.

Sam was looking fixatedly at the computer screen, not giving any indication that he had heard his brother.

Dean cleared his throat to get Sam's attention but only got a 'hmmm' and some clacking of a keys in response. This only built on the frustration he felt from Sam ignoring him.

Dean felt like picking up and throwing the laptop but then took into account the untold damage Sam could do to his baby in retaliation.

Finally, he dropped into the chair opposite his brother which at last had the desired effect of his brother paying attention to him.

Sam took a good look at Dean and frowned in response.

"Dude, is everything ok? Is it the vampire job?" They hadn't expected to work tonight since they had just lost the trail of the vampire they had been following in the hopes of finding a nest.

"I went to that bar we saw on our way here."

"And…" Sam prompted when Dean stopped, sitting the beer next to his gun.

"And I met this chick there; there was something odd about her." Dean had an intense look on his face, obviously trying to figure the mystery behind the girl.

"What do you mean by odd? Was she a vampire?" Sam questioned.

"What?,,,,No." Replied Dean, as if the answer was obvious, still partially in his own world. He started pacing in the limited space between the beds and the table where Sam still sat.

"Well, what did you find odd about her? Excluding the obvious black eyes or hex bags, and so on?" Sam tried to be patient with his interrogation, in the face of the limited answers he was getting from his brother.

Dean was stumped by the question. "I can't really describe it. It was this weird vibe I got from her."

"A weird vibe? That's what your going on. So no killings, weird disappearances or mystical mojo of any kind. I'm all for going with our hunter instincts Dean but you've got to give me more to go on." Sam slumped back in his chair and could only stare at his older brother.

Dean looked at Sam and tried to think of anything else that he could tell him.

"She's blind …..and can sing?"

"Dean, seriously?" Sam could only shake his head.

"None of those things says she's anything but normal. Actually you might be describing the perfect victim instead, since she's so vulnerable. Also, what's her being able to sing got to do with anything?" Sam was trying to work out why Dean was fixated.

"Look, Sammy, the way she sang, it was….." Dean tailed off, not knowing what to say, especially since he didn't know why the girl struck a cord with him.

"Ok, fine. Let's just say there's something odd about her? Did you follow her?" It was normal protocol, if you could call it that, to investigate. And for someone like Dean, following the girl would have been a no-brainer but with the frame of mind he was in at the moment, Sam had to ask.

The question brought Dean back to the present.

"Eh, yeah, I did. She went up to the flat above the bar and didn't leave, as far as I could see. I waited for an hour and then came back here."

"Any suspicious activity?"

"Not as far as I can tell". He had seen the lights go on in the flat and that's about it.

Sam wanted to call Dean out and say it was a wild goose chase. But he had too much respect for his brother and his instincts. Logic didn't as much merit as pure hunter instinct did, in the world they lived in.

"Ok. How about we go there tomorrow night? Maybe I'll pick up on something you've missed." Sam said in consolation.

Dean nodded his head in agreement. "Sound's good".

With that, Dean flung his weary form onto his chosen bed and threw an arm up to cover his eyes. The not knowing ate at him but hopefully he'd get some answers tomorrow. With Grace still on his mind, Dean fell into a restful asleep.

OoOoOoOoOoO

Grace was unaware that the man she had just met had spent time staking out where she lived. Even if she had known, she was too deep a sleep to care.

The glimpses she got of different scenes in her dream, rushed by too fast to make much sense. They were like a spectrum of lights or facets of a diamond, begging her to make sense of them. She both hated and loved the sensation, for in her dreams she could see but she knew from past experiences, it was a mixed blessing at best.

Finally, the kaleidoscope of lights stopped. It felt like vertigo had its hold on her as she was plunged into a scene.

She walked down a decrepit hospital corridor; that was packed on all sides with invalids. The paint peeled from the once white walls, and an overwhelming smell of decay permeated the air. The invalids suffering was on a level that was inhumane as so many were on the cusp of death. She felt for them to such an extent that she almost cried in anguish. It was excruciatingly painful to feel so much and she wished in that moment she couldn't feel what they felt.

But she pushed that thought away. It was her cross to bear; even this had its purpose.

She closed her eyes and opened her senses. There. She knew who she had to approach. A little boy with café au lait skin sat on the dirty floor, his little form resting against a woman with similar features next him. Both were obviously suffering from malnutrition, among other diseases one contracted in such a deprived village. The pair showed no indication that they were aware of her presence as she stood before them.

She reached her hand out towards the boy and then….nothing.

The roulette in her mind spun again before she had a chance to find out.

Once again she was thrown into a scene without any warning.

She was blind here. Wait, no. She had a blindfold bound tightly around her head. She tried remove it but couldn't. It was as if her whole body was paralysed. There was no moving from the hard unforgiving chair she was seated in. When she realised there would be nothing gained from her fruitless attempts to move, she focused her attention outwards.

There were voices buzzing on all sides, what seems like hundreds, a cacophony bouncing off walls, of what it seemed like, was a large space.

"Enough!" A voice rang out above all the rest. It held such authority, that it commanded and all who heard it obeyed, resulting in complete silence.

"So, as far as I understand, we are in agreement." When not one of the voices spoke out to oppose the statement.

Suddenly, she felt to arms dragging her to her feet. She could only guess that it was it came from a non-verbal command.

The cold, almost robotic voice continued.

"You are to be executed. You have broken one of our most sacred rules. You should be glad that we are being merciful enough to grant you a quick death." The voice said with heavy condescension, ever aware if its self-importance when handing out death.

Suddenly, she was outside, the wind blowing her unbound hair about her head. She could hear the rush of the sea coming from somewhere below her. She could only guess she was near the edge of a cliff. The uneven ground that she was pulled across, only confirmed it.

It came to her with a jolt. This was it, the place she had only seen from afar, where so many others before her had met their end. She had felt sorry for them but had been helpless to do anything. Now she would meet the same fate.

The hands that had dragged her from her seat were in the process of shacking her to a wall. When they were done, it was they were the only thing that would stop her from slumping to the floor. An unneeded measure since she was still paralysed, but it made for a better target. The ceremonial arrow would be shown that much respect, it never missed what it had in its sight.

"Any last words?" Said the mocking voice from before. She hated it, as much her heart would allow her to.

Her hearing picked up their footfalls, somehow she could tell it was just 'him' and her keepers there to witness her last moments. She wouldn't beg them to spare her; she wouldn't give him the satisfaction.

"Nothing? Well let's get on with it." She could imagine him before her, the arrow strung in its bow, ready to end her life. She thought she could hear him pull the string, in happy readiness for its release.

From nowhere she felt a tingling taking over her body. It started at her scalp and with a rush, it reached her toes. The sensation made her flinch mentally, her hands balling into fists at its aftermath.

I can move!

With that realisation she sprung into action. The shackles broke as she wrenched herself free of the wall, as if they were made of glass. She only had one chance and she had to take it. As she lurched to the left, she heard the whoosh of the arrow as it missed her. Piercing the wall behind her, as she knew it had done so many times before.

The wind started to howl, pushing her towards the cliff edge, as if to aid her escape. She heard the scuffle of their feet on the jagged rock that made up the ground. She would soon meet the black waters below, and she was willing to face its embrace, anything was better than what they had planned.

As her feet touched nothing, a hand grasped her arm. But her momentum meant that it found no purchase. The hand released her, unwilling to share the experience of a watery death.

It felt like her body fell for an eternity. But finally, when she thought she would never reach it, her person hit it the surface. She had never felt such pain, her body was jarred and it felt as if she had smacked into a hard flat exterior breaking through the watery barrier, pushing out the breath from her lungs.

But that was nothing in comparison to the cold, arctic water enveloping her in its embrace. She had no time to take a breath; it was if it had taken a hold of her throat, asphyxiating her, before the malignant water could flow into her lungs.

OoOoOoOoO

Grace shot up in bed, gulping in as much air into her lungs as humanly possible. Her heart pounded out of her chest. The wisps of the dream that clung to her, no longer made sense in the light of day.

Her dreams had recently taken on an odd quality; it was if they were pieces of a large jigsaw puzzle that was incomplete. She didn't understand what her they meant. And what she saw scared her. Her introspection was interrupted by a knock on the door.

"Grace, honey, are you awake? Breakfast is ready." Her Dad's voice came through the closed door.

She pulled herself back to the present and replied.

"Yeah, Dad I'm awake. I'll be right out." She heard her Dad walk away.

When she could no longer hear him, she fell back onto her bed and felt the cushiony softness below her. Her unseeing eyes stared up at the ceiling above her. She could only imagine what the new day would bring.

AN – Please read and Review. Reading comments makes me a happy bunny!


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